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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28102386">like a bomb in a birdcage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkwordytome/pseuds/talkwordytome'>talkwordytome</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ratched (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Falling In Love, Ficlet, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, perhaps one of the fluffiest things I've ever written, precious babies, seriously this is just pure fluff with a side of soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:35:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28102386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkwordytome/pseuds/talkwordytome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Mildred’s giggle, her soft, nearly childlike squeal of delight at the prospect of trying something so new--in that moment, Gwendolyn knew she was hers. Forever and utterly. She knew she could, and would, spend the rest of her life trying to make Mildred Ratched light up that way again, and again, and again.</i>
</p><p>in which this I thought up this pure fluff served with a side of sweet softness last night as I was falling asleep and wrote it today because we're in a pandemic and that means, to quote wildnessbecomesyou, what else do we have to do besides hyperfixate on lesbians, y'know?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>like a bomb in a birdcage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title comes from "What I Wouldn't Do" by A Fine Frenzy which is truly THE most Mildolyn song I've ever heard in my life.</p><p>I know I am like publishing nonstop so hopefully people are still enjoying it???? I've never had a hyperfixation last this long tbh, but I'm having fun with it. Though truly my love for Sarah Paulson knows no bounds.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Gwendolyn were to name exactly when it happened, she would have to say during the oysters.</p><p>She knows people might consider that a clichè, but it wasn’t even the oysters themselves; it wasn’t when she helped Mildred eat her first, the winking flirtatiousness of the instructions: <i>now, swallow</i>. That was fun, of course, and Mildred eating an oyster was an undeniably delectable image--one Gwendolyn still finds herself returning to, even five months after the fact--but that wasn’t when she knew, <i>knew</i>, she was hopelessly smitten with Mildred Ratched.</p><p>It was after that, after the strange, sad talk of lobotomies and disordered minds; a conversation that left Gwendolyn unsettled and uneasy. But Mildred, full of surprises even then, had accepted her invitation for a nightcap, had looked at the tray of oysters and chewed that bottom lip. And her smile, that glorious, slow to blossom smile, had appeared on her face. She’d flicked her gaze back up towards Gwendolyn, and Gwendolyn could feel giant Amazonian butterflies explode in the pit of her stomach.</p><p>
  <i>I think I want another one.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You do?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I do.</i>
</p><p>Mildred’s giggle, her soft, nearly childlike squeal of delight at the prospect of trying something so new--in that moment, Gwendolyn knew she was hers. Forever and utterly. She knew she could, and would, spend the rest of her life trying to make Mildred Ratched light up that way again, and again, and again.</p><p>Gwendolyn has a list now of all the things she’s learned about Mildred, all the dear, precious parts Mildred was taught in the cruelest possible way she had to keep locked away. Sometimes when Gwendolyn looks at Mildred she can see so clearly the hurt, frightened little girl who still resides within her. In those moments, the only thing Gwendolyn can think to do is rush to Mildred and hold her tightly, which Mildred tolerates with only some bemusement. She has a deep well of tenderness, Mildred, and Gwendolyn’s favorite new project is teaching Mildred how to draw from it. </p><p>One of the first things Gwendolyn notices is that Mildred adores clothes. She spent so many years wearing hand-me-downs, all in drab shades of grey and brown, that now she practically devours color; she wants everything to be bright and fetching, and Gwendolyn is more than happy to indulge her. When Mildred dresses in the mornings, she graces her hands over the items she’s considering and whispers their colors--<i>jade, violet, orchid, cerulean, garnet, forsythia</i>--simply because they’re lovely to hear. To Gwendolyn, they sound like the words to some ancient, powerful spell.</p><p>Mildred has a sweet tooth; a powerful one. Gwendolyn learns to keep multiple bags of chocolate chips in the house because when Mildred bakes she puts nearly as many in her mouth as she does in the batter. She likes honey in her coffee and sugar in her tea. When they go to the movies Mildred adds Junior Mints to the popcorn they share. The only thing Gwendolyn can reliably convince Mildred to eat when she’s sick is ice cream.</p><p>Mildred is a giggly drunk and a lightweight to boot. She hardly needs more than a glass of wine before she’s flushed pink and loose limbed. The laugh that warms Gwendolyn from the inside out is right there at the surface, ready to be triggered by absolutely anything: an off-color joke, a silly face, a funny sounding word, and occasionally things that are mysteries to everyone but Mildred herself. Gwendolyn shamelessly encourages those giggles, until Mildred is bent in half and breathlessly begging Gwendolyn to <i>stop, please, stop</i>.</p><p>She has a tendency to talk to herself, and--even more adorably--give herself little pep talks in the mirror when she’s about to do something difficult. Gwendolyn finds it an endlessly charming habit, will tiptoe until she’s standing outside the bathroom, just beyond where Mildred can see her, so she’s able to watch unobserved as Mildred offers herself words of encouragement. She never tells Mildred that she listens, but she’s always sure to give Mildred an extra hug and kiss, just in case she happens to need them.</p><p>When the pip comes, Mildred turns into a veritable heat seeking missile; all she wants is to be held and cuddled. She curls up next to Gwendolyn wherever she happens to be sitting and pouts and whines until Gwendolyn gives her attention. She likes to press whatever part of her body happens to be aching the most to Gwendolyn’s warmth to soothe it. Sometimes, if the pip is especially awful, she even requests that she be carried up to bed. Gwendolyn is always more than happy to oblige her.</p><p>Mildred loves animals, all of them, even the ones that make Gwendolyn squirm. One night there’s a spider in the bedroom, and Gwendolyn shrieks and leaps onto the bed. Mildred, though, simply rolls her eyes and laughs. She kneels on the floor and holds out her hand. She quietly coaxes the spider to crawl into it, then opens the window and leaves it out on the sill. She does this for every insect that finds its way into their house because, as she explains to Gwendolyn, the thought of squishing them makes her too sad. </p><p>There are other things Gwendolyn learns about Mildred, so many that she takes to writing them in her journal so she won’t ever forget them. A history of Mildred, scrawled between grocery lists and speech points, appointment reminders and notes to self. She fills pages and pages this way, and on nights she can’t sleep she takes to reading them like the sweetest bedtime story. </p><p>
  <i>Lack of formal education means she wants to read everything there is to read and learn everything there is to learn. Boundless curiosity. Can’t swim but loves the ocean; it makes her feel grounded, present, alive. Needs to be held after she has a nightmare. Sticks her tongue out ever so slightly when she’s concentrating. Plays peekaboo with babies she sees in public. Broke her wrist as a child and it aches when it’s going to rain. Scared of thunderstorms. Sneezes in triples. Favorite time of day is twilight. Dances when she cooks and sings when she cleans. Knows the names and locations of all the major constellations. Won’t go out without earrings on or else she feels naked. Steals the covers. Talks in her sleep. Thinks the first bite of an apple tastes the best. Prefers sharing desserts over getting her own. Grumpy in the mornings until she’s had her first cup of coffee. Favorite words are clavicle, quotidian, and loquacious. Slightly in love with Lauren Bacall. Desperately wants to travel everywhere she possibly can. Thinks long and hard before she says anything. Seems forward and confident but is really very shy. Predisposed to dreaminess and often lost in thought. Loves fiercely and without apology.</i>
</p><p>Gwendolyn is beginning to run out of space, but she doesn’t at all mind. Really, she thinks there’s something rather lovely about it, and perhaps even a bit poetic. She wants to collect every bit of Mildred, consume every morsel like she’s a hungry child. The way Mildred sounds and feels and smells and tastes is an ocean, and Gwendolyn hopes she might simply drown in it. She thinks she might fill a thousand journals and still not know anywhere near enough. She’s happy to keep making all the space she can, if it means Mildred will always be hers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the folk songs: interludes fic should have a new chapter posted soon!</p><p>as ever, if you have a request you can leave it here or you can drop me a line on tumblr @ anneofgreengaybles 🥰</p></blockquote></div></div>
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